Forgiveness
by Javanne
Summary: When a Reaper has expiated his sins and learned the value of life, he will be Forgiven. So the books say. It's never happened, though, not that we know of...
1. Something's Wrong

"It's my partner, Will. He's stewing about something. Have ye given him an unusual assignment or some such?"

* * *

Eric noticed, because Alan was half of himself. Alan was thinking about something serious, thinking very hard, and would not welcome interruption. Being wise in the ways of his partner, Eric left a cup of tea on Alan's desk before busying himself elsewhere. There were times when getting well ahead on your paperwork was the better part of valor.

He submitted his stack of collection reports - complete, legible, alphabetized, unblotted and free of coffee stains - to Spears, who eyed them with uncomplimentary disbelief.

"Right, Slingby, whatever can you want this badly?"

"It's my partner, Will," and now he had Spears' attention in full, "He's stewing about something. Have ye given him an unusual assignment or some such?"

"No, I have not. Could it have been a difficult reap? His last reports have not indicated any distress, nor did they involve any human who might have engaged his sympathy."

"I don't think so. I pick up our assignments daily. If there's something there that would truly upset him I swap it out for a routine case of my own."

"I'm surprised he lets you do that."

"We pretend he doesn't know. It works for us. Sir."

"Investigate and report, Slingby."

* * *

At shift change, Eric suggested they all nip over to the pub for a quick pint. Alan ordered his usual, chatted with everyone and obviously was easy in their company. Therefore Alan's problem was not related to his fellow Reapers. That was a relief. Once upon a psychotic break, Grell had decided that Eric, while not Mr. Right, was Mr. Right Now. His attempt to detach Eric from Alan failed spectacularly; his attempt to remove Alan as a rival got him a stay in hospital. Spears confiscated his chainsaw and posted him to the Orkneys for a year. Eric could do without a replay.

"Ronnie, hae ye noticed that Alan is fretting? Do ye know what might be bothering him?"

"No, but y' might ask Wayland. Alan's been workin' wi'm. Maybe they stumbled over somethin'?"

Wayland had been a Reaper for about three years now. He had entered the most dangerous stage of his training. There were four stages: Knows Nothing, Knows Something, Thinks He Knows Everything, and Sadder But Wiser. Wayland had begun to think that he'd seen it all, that he was getting pretty good at this job, and that he didn't need a Senior's oversight. Alan had been trying to keep him alive until the fellow lost the deadly cockiness that could kill him and anyone he happened to be working with.

Evidently Alan saw something in the man worth preserving. In these cases, Alan was usually right. Careful to avoid Alan's attention, Eric delved for information. That was easy, as Wayland was also overconfident about his alcohol tolerance.

"Um, no, there weren't any bad reaps. Was a demon but Alan ran him right off, no problem. I coulda done it. I did all the collections. By myself! Oh, and there was a, uh. Wingthing? An angel." Wayland's common sense made a desperate attempt to assert control; Slingby = Humphries = Wayland's hopes of promotion. He straightened up. "Yesterday. Lookin' for a Fallen who is running a human agent. We're s'pose' to report if we see them, but not innerfere."

Ah. On the rare occasions that angels communicated with Reapers, they did seem to prefer Alan. Alan had reported the interaction - it had been part of the morning briefing. Alan hadn't mentioned it to Eric the previous evening, though. That was odd.

On the way home Alan fell silent. Eric let him think undisturbed. At the door of their apartment, there was a sudden change. Alan was angry, no, furious - but not with him; thank Heaven, the little buzzsaw was not angry with him. As the door closed behind them, Alan turned to Eric, his eyes glowing. The night began in passion and ended in tenderness.

* * *

Eric woke with Alan in his arms. There were traces of dried tears on Alan's face. Eric eased out from under, tucked the warm covers around his lover, and padded off to the bathroom. _Right,_ he thought, _this has to stop now. If that angel is the cause of this I will pluck his sorry wings and paint him purple._ But why? Angels preferred to consider Reapers beneath their august notice. Is this angel newly Fallen? Alan would have recognized that. Even Wayland saw the angel as nonthreatening, and Wayland was at the stage where he was always looking for a fight.

Bringing out the big guns, Eric brewed coffee and fried bacon. Worked like magic every time. Alan rose like Lazarus from his bed and shuffled blearily into the kitchen. He was adorably tousled. Eric pressed a mug of zombie-fix into his hands, sat him down at the table with a plate of World's Best Breakfast, and watched his partner gradually return to sentience. He cleaned his own plate and poured a fresh cup.

"There now. All better. What's wrong?"

"'M fine. More coffee?"

"Talk to me, Alan. Tell me what is bothering you. We'll fix it together."

"Coffee..."

Eric held the pot out of reach. "Alan. Tell me." He ran his hand gently down Alan's cheek, where the dry tracks were now accompanied by a fresh tear rolling down. Alan tried to rise. Eric stopped him.

"Eric, I promise, I'll be right back. I'm getting something that - that you need to see."

Alan went back to the bedroom to retrieve something from his suitcoat pocket. This took a minute, as the coat was discarded last night without its usual brush-off and hanging up. Where... ah. Was that a sock on the ceiling fan? Well, Eric could reach it easily.

How could he bear to lose all this?

Alan returned to the kitchen holding a sheet of vellum. He handed it off to Eric in return for a refill. Hugging the cup to his chest, he sat back down at the table while Eric read.

 _Alan Humphries, you have earned Forgiveness. You are granted three days to conclude all business. We will come for you on the fourth day. Congratulations on your release into a better life._

To Eric, it was a kick in the chest. Somehow he whispered "Congratulations," and "Tomorrow..." and then they were holding hands.

They spoke simultaneously.

"We can't run-"

"No hiding place-"

"Eric, I want you to have my bolo tie. It's the only thing of value I have that isn't Dispatch issue. Say you'll keep it. Give the note to Spears, he's going to need to reschedule and hire a replacement."

"Alan!"

"I will refuse. I will not go where you cannot."

"Ye mustn't fight! If you anger them they could destroy you."

"Let them!"

"Then I will fight beside you and we'll go down together."

"No. They can take me. I won't have you harmed."

"Alan -"

Alan whispered, "We have to get ready for work," and somehow they fell into their morning routines. There was no choice.


	2. Cave Furorem Patientis

_Beware the fury of a patient man._

* * *

Eric gathered the To-Die lists for himself, Alan, and Wayland The Stage Three Wonder. None of the Reaps were anything that would bother Alan, whose clinical detachment was pretty solid these days. The morning briefing was routine.

Grell was on an upswing, annoying but not murderous. He spotted their low spirits at once and broadcast it loudly with extra drama. Having determined that this was not a lover's quarrel (Oh, poo!), he swept off in search of other entertainment. Alan compared To-Die lists with Wayland, synchronized their watches, noted Wayland's hangover - which would slow his reaction time - and dragged him off to Reap.

Eric brewed a cup of tea to Spears's specifications. He listened at Spear's door, to be sure that Spears wasn't in a meeting or giving some poor screwup a bollocking. He knocked and was bidden to enter. Giving Spears the tea and the vellum, he sat down uninvited and put his head in his hands.

Spears sipped his tea and took up the vellum.

 _Alan Humphries, you have earned Forgiveness. You are granted three days to conclude all business. We will come for you on the fourth day. Congratulations on your release into a better life._

He had never seen one of these before. Which was only proper. This should have been submitted to the highest levels of Management, couched in the most florid language and covered with seals, stamps and ribbons. From a stack of documents he retrieved the Request For Assistance that Humphries had submitted.

This Request was a description of a human who had been possessed by a Fallen angel, with a list of their crimes and locations-last-seen. It asked that the Reapers inform the appropriate Entities if they spotted the Possessed while on their rounds. All standard Divine boilerplate. Spears compared the Request to the notification Slingby had brought in. The vellum and calligraphy were identical.

This elegant creamy stationery was strictly controlled. Was the Request genuine? Yes. Two pages of vellum had been issued for this Request, which had been crowded onto a single page. The Forgiveness note, however, was bogus. The angel who wrote the Request was also the angel who wrote the note. That angel was plotting to kidnap a Reaper.

...breaking up his best team...  
...costing him one of his best mentors...  
...which would destroy another...

Eric was slumped in his chair, the very picture of a man about to make a disastrous decision. Déjà vu.

Will had given up all chance of promotion in exchange for the reincarnation of these two reapers. They had repaid him many times over. They would not be taken from him now.

Forgiveness? For a Reaper of less than a century's service? With Humphries' record? Nonsense.

A better life? They had already built their better life. In effect, they had made their own forgiveness. They had a home, they had meaningful work, friends, and above all they had each other. They were happy.

Reapers weren't supposed to be happy.

But could an angel be jealous of a Reaper? Surely not.

Who would benefit?

Demons would have much less competition for souls if Humphries was taken and Slingby devastated by the loss. Eric was death on demons. Alan was a fearsome fighter, with the added advantage that he was often underestimated due to his small stature and previous illness. But no demon would attempt to impersonate an angel to an experienced Reaper. Demons would just gang up for a street snatch. A pool of blood and a torn body left for the crows. No.

The lowest orders of Angels could be narrow-minded, intolerant, and arrogant. Rising above these faults was required for advancement. "We" implied conspiracy. If this were just a prank by some bored under-supervised junior featherheads, it would be a serious breach of the Law. It would also be poking a beehive. Reapers were allowed to resist forcefully if angels attempted to interfere with their duties. No.

Could Grell be trying to detach Eric from Alan again? No. The angels would not work with Grell. Grell gave angels headaches. Grell confused them, dazzled and confounded them, lead them into dark dangerous places filled with dark dangerous music and dark dangerous intoxicants; he stole their robes for window curtains and stuck them with the bar tab. Angels would not work with any Reaper, because of experiences with Grell. Blessed be Grell, for he teacheth caution even unto the most truly stupid.

What was the value of a stolen Reaper? This specific Reaper. Not the oldest or strongest or highest-ranking. Just a mid-level worker, competent, diligent, dutiful, with an unfortunate history. _Yes._

A Reaper who was known to have felt compassion for his Reaps.

Somewhere nearby, a human was dying. Someone who was important to a higher-ranking angel. A Daughter of Man. Or her child. A Reaper could grant extended life to a dying mortal.

Logical, then, to target Humphries, who could not be forced but who might be persuaded. "See my pain, which you have also known. Your touch can save a life. If you spare my beloved, I will return you to yours. If you refuse this small favor, you will die. I will seize another Reaper, and another, killing until I find one who will help me. Would you wish to be the cause of so much death?"

About average idiocy for an archangel. He could have just asked his superiors for a minor miracle. Well, perhaps he did. He might have been turned down or caught in office politics. Or perhaps he didn't want to answer embarrassing questions about his extracurricular relationships. He had a friend or two willing to conspire with him. However. Involving the Reaper Realm - _threatening my people_ \- was completely unacceptable.

"Agent Slingby! Button your collar, adjust your tie, brush your suit and shine your shoes. Borrow a vest and a plain uniform belt. Remove all jewelry. You have twenty minutes while I write a letter. You are going to present yourself to Higher Ups, and your appearance and behaviour are to be faultless! You will deliver the message and wait to carry a reply back here, do you understand? Move!"

Slingby jumped and ran. Spears followed him out of the office.

"Fitzwilliam! General orders until rescinded: Inform everyone, all shifts, no solitary reaping. Work in teams. Beware of angels attempting abduction of a Reaper. Send an alert to all offices and allies.

"Sutcliff! Take Knox. Find Wayland and Humphries now. Knox and Humphries are to return here at once. You will stay with Wayland and help him complete their reaps plus your own. Knox! Go with Sutcliff, escort Humphries back here to Meeting Room A, then take D'Acres, return to Sutcliff, and help reap."

Grell suddenly glowed with delight and ferocity. Knox slipped a balisong from his desk into his pocket. Both ran.

"Fairbairn, summon your scythe and go into Meeting Room A. Make sure it's empty, then wait for Humphries. You will stay in there with him until I release you. Jacobs! When Alan Humphries returns, send him into Meeting Room A immediately. Tell him he is not to leave for any reason. Close that door. Guard it. Nobody in but Humphries and Fairbairn. Nobody out until I personally say so.

"Gupta! Vanderveldt! Review the To-Die lists for the next two - no, three days. Make a list of all females between the ages of twelve and forty-five. Sort them by location. Note any with a strong religious affiliation, living near any sanctified property, and especially any due to die in, or as a result of, childbirth. Then a second list of stillborn children and children who will die shortly after birth, whose mothers fit those parameters. Third, a list of all minor children of unusual size who might be Nephilim.

"All of you! If anyone other than myself insists upon seeing Humphries, knock them down and restrain them. We could be dealing with a powerful Entity who can control his appearance with glamours. When I come for Alan, I will give you this passphrase - _Cave furorem patientis_. If I do not, assume I am an impostor."

Spears returned to his office, took a deep breath, and began to frame a proper cover letter for the Request and the false notification; a formal report that might be passed to the very highest levels of Management, and then over to a Seraph. Hopefully it would be the first pebble of an avalanche, roaring downhill towards an angel who'd been courting outside his own species.


	3. The angel was lying

_...it's fake, it must be, it's all a fraud..._

* * *

Alan wondered if he could forfeit his Forgiveness by kicking Wayland off the roof. Wayland had a sore head and an upset tummy; he was suggesting hastening the Reap so they could go someplace cool and quiet. Alan was tired of waiting for him to figure out for himself why it might be a bad idea to enter a building that was about to explode.

Wayland also had not noticed that there was an imp in the area. Not an immediate problem, but it was a sign that there could be a nest somewhere nearby. Alan made a note in his deathbook. A senior team was going to have to check that out. He couldn't do it with a hungover junior in tow.

Wayland had the potential to be a competent Senior someday. Really, he did. It was just hard to see sometimes. _Who will mentor him when I am gone?_

Duty demanded that he keep his trainee safe while completing the Reap properly. For many years he had stubbornly adhered to the Rules and done his Duty. And for what? The loss of everything? A blessing that was actually a punishment? But he must not let his personal problems affect his work. Someone was porting in.

"Alan, sweetie! Will wants you, you lucky, lucky man!" It was Grell, with Knox right behind him. Wayland, startled, nearly fell off the roof on his own. Alan caught his sleeve and narrowly avoided being pulled over the edge himself.

Knox grabbed Wayland and pushed him into Sutcliff's willing arms. "Emergency. I'm to escort you back to HQ while Grell fills in for you here. Seems there's an angel after you, or possibly after any Reaper. 'S all I know."

"We've got five minutes until our Reap. Should we finish that first?"

"Nah, c'mon, Spears is spittin' nails. Port to the main entrance."

"Understood. Grell, there's a hint of imp around here, watch out for its dam or sire. Also, Wayland is feeling poorly. Here's my List. Thanks for covering for me."

"Oooh, poor baby, let's see how I can make you feel better..." Grell was petting Wayland, who suddenly looked green. Alan could not quite manage to feel sorry for either of them. He nodded to Knox. They ported away from the sounds of squeals and retching.

* * *

Fairbairn had ordered in lunch from the little curry place around the corner. They had to be secure. Nobody said they had to be uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you much, but we're on a general high alert for angelic interference. Evidently you are being targeted. Possibly others. Spears is outraged. We're in here, Jacobs is out there, we scythe anything that tries to get at you. Oh, and he forced Slingby into strict basic by-the-book uniform - has he ever worn that since the Academy? - gave him a packet, and sent him Upstairs."

Alan's heart leapt. Something was wrong with the Forgiveness - it's fake, it must be, it's all a fraud and I can stay with Eric. The angel was lying. _Thank God, thank God, thank You, Lord God Almighty. I promise You I will keep that ninny Wayland alive if I have to lock him in a cell to do it._ Um, if I can rescue him from Grell. Actually he may pay a lot more attention to his surroundings if he thinks Grell is lurking behind the chimneypots, ready to ravish him. Demons? Not scary. Grell? Absolutely scary. I can use this. _Amen._

And Eric had been given an assignment which would keep him safe from his tendency to overreact when Alan was in trouble.

Suddenly the food smelled wonderful. Fairbairn was brilliant. Spears was brilliant. That angel was not brilliant and needed a thorough punching. Maybe Alan could arrange for Eric to do the punching. Just as a favor, a gesture of his inexpressible love for that man.


	4. Educational

_In which Eric pretends to be furniture. Nobody does cold indignation better than Spears._

* * *

Eric stood at parade rest at the back of the room, listening as a group of Higher Ups plotted revenge. It was educational.

Nobody did cold indignation better than Spears. His cover letter accused an unknown angel of everything from Misappropriation of Office Supplies (Letterhead) to Improper Relations With Non-Celestial Beings, with emphasis on Intent To Impede Or Influence A Reaper's Performance Of His Duty, as defined By Divine Law 10452-3, subsection C, paragraphs 1 through 5. Spears' logic was faultless, the evidence compelling. He had even enclosed a list of impending Reaps which might be connected to this disgraceful situation.

Spears needed to be warned he was in danger of having his promotion freeze overturned.

Protocol required that they let the Entities police themselves. The recipient of their protest was currently being chosen. Which high-ranking Entity would be most likely to move quickly on this? Who would be least willing to explain to the Highest if delay caused a Reaper to be injured or slain? Whose authority had been most flouted? Whose tolerance for malfeasance was lowest, whose wells of mercy the shallowest, whose staff of Enforcers the most fearsome?

The decision was made, an address written. Additional letters of protest were added to the packet. Official signatures, stamps and seals added weight and urgency. A Messenger was summoned from the Divine Realm. The packet, a ticking time bomb, was handed over with requests for the utmost speed. The Messenger departed.

Eric kept his face absolutely blank as the spotlight of attention turned on him. Obviously they wanted the whole debate reported back to Spears, off the record. The Higher Ups instructed him to wait while they penned a response to his superior. He was sent to an anteroom where an assistant offered him tea. He accepted, using his poshest English accent.

The Forgiveness was a lie. Alan was safe. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

Eric returned to the office, bearing an envelope for Spears. He found the man inside Meeting Room A, with Alan, Jacobs and Fairbairn. Alan, a hornet between two mastiffs, had that grim look that meant he was controlling his temper. He'd probably been told he couldn't go angel hunting.

Eric presented the envelope. Spears took it and motioned Eric back to the privacy of his office. He sat at his desk, read the missive, then looked up.

"Slingby. Report."

Eric reported, careful to omit no fact and offer no opinion. Spears waved Eric to a chair, then reread the letter. He sat back and thought. Eric waited patiently in the lengthy silence. Spears was planning for several eventualities. He was very good at it. Some scenarios might involve Eric getting a bit of revenge on an angel.

Finally Spears looked up, fixing Eric with a stern eye.

"Slingby, take Humphries and go home. This location is too well known for safety. I believe the Divine Realm may ask to borrow Humphries to bait a trap tomorrow. I will be unable to prevent that, as the decision will be made at a much higher level. I can, however, arrange certain protections."

"Sir..."

"Quiet, Slingby. Remember that the angel needs Humphries alive. Indeed, his superiors may request that Humphries do as he asks. We can only extend a mortal life, not grant immortality, and the end result is the same. If you cannot promise not to interfere, I will confine you until all is done."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I will do nothing to upset the trap."

"Wrong. You will take no action whatsoever, start to finish, unless I expressly command it. Agreed?"

Damn. Spears knew him too well. "Agreed. Sir."

"And Slingby? You will remain in strict, complete, unadorned uniform until this is over."

Sigh. "Yes, sir."


	5. Genesis 6:4

_"There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown."_

* * *

They gathered in the darkness before the dawn. The room was stuffy. It smelled of blood and pain. The woman had suffered agonies for four days. The child was injured.

An angel gestured. Time stopped. Alan moved among the angels to sit beside her bed.

 _Poor woman,_ thought Alan. She was small, like himself, and for the same reason; childhood malnutrition. _Weak bones._ Her angel Matthias had known the baby would be too large for a safe birthing. The doctor's forceps helped but there was so much damage, blood loss, and now childbed fever. There was never any hope for her once she fell pregnant. How many women's souls had he safely gathered in, giving surcease from this pain? But this once, in this frozen moment in time, he could grant a different mercy.

He removed his right glove. He laid his hand upon her forehead, her cheek, her abdomen. Tissues knit. The fever faded as the infection was swept away. A blood clot dissolved harmlessly. He prolonged his touch, giving her a little more strength; she was going to need it, a woman with a baby and no husband. Her family had disowned her. Matthias had arranged an income and housing for her, but angels didn't really track time the way that humans did. He'd probably show up every ten to fifteen years and be astonished that things had changed. She'd be unprotected in his absence. _I will check in on her, when I can._

He slid from his chair to kneel by the cradle. Like all Nephilim, the baby was too big, too comely. _Poor kid._ It would grow tall, strong, graceful, fair of face and probably not terribly intelligent, very like its father. Human/angel hybrids were not always successful in the human realm. Too soon grown, too late smart. Too easily manipulated by quicker, slyer humans. Especially in a fatherless household. There was some forceps damage, broken bones. After a gentle touch to heal and comfort, Alan drew on his glove. He stood and looked up at all the surrounding angels. _My, but the Enforcers are a stern bunch. Matthias and his cronies are right to look nervous._ Alan had no sympathy for them whatsoever.

"Have you finished, Reaper?"

"I have. You do understand that I may give life, but not safety? They are not immune to illness or misfortune. Her landlord looks to be a villain. Can you appoint a guardian? Matthias needs to hire her a housekeeper. The monthly nurse drinks. The wet nurse is all right, though." _You haven't done your homework._

"Do not concern yourself, Mr. Humphries. We will arrange all necessary oversight."

"I'm sure you will, sir. Still, I do feel a responsibility. May I return to my duties, Enforcer?"

"You may. You have our thanks, Reaper. Please extend it to Mr. Spears as well. We, too, must go about our business. Good day."

In a swirl of linen they departed. Alan picked up five downy feathers to use as a bribe. Grell was making a boa out of these.

Time resumed.

He ported up to a nearby roof, where Spears awaited. Reapers began to appear from their stations around the neighborhood. Alan gave a quick review of the recent events. "I do want to make the occasional well-being check, sir. They've said they will take care of everything, which will happen when pigs fly. You know they'll want to forget the whole incident as soon as possible."

"Given sufficient thrust, Mr. Humphries, pigs fly just fine. The continued protection of those two humans is written into the contract they signed for your services. If the Divine fails in this, it will give us a card to play in the future. You are not to permit yourself to get attached to these mortals. I will add a weekly visit to this place to someone else's schedule.

"You are done here. Get some rest. Your next shift begins tomorrow at eight A.M. Overtime will be assigned until you have made up the lost hours. I want a written report in full by end of shift tomorrow."

One by one the black suits ported away, leaving only Alan and one other. Alan felt Eric's presence, behind and to the left, and relaxed. He swayed with exhaustion. Then Eric's hand was on his shoulder. Everything was all right. Eric was smiling, loosening his tie. It was time to go home.


	6. Playing cleanup

_Grell 101 and bitter experience_

* * *

Wayland was serious, sober and alert. London Dispatch had gathered to clear out a breeding nest of devils. A stealthy Reaper team had located them - sire, dam and a litter of eight. It appeared that the growing imps were being supported by a Possessed who was luring humans into the shadows. A couple of Enforcers were present to deal with that. Angels didn't like even their Fallen to be taken down by a Reaper. _Fair enough. Let them do the paperwork._

Ahead on his left, Slingby stood with Humphries, because who could stop him?

Agent Humphries had been weary for days after the Healing. (Slingby had muttered something about the draining effects of "reversing the polarity of the neutron flow." Knox had sprayed tea over several report forms. Sutcliffe had thrown a bottle of nail lacquer at him.) Wayland had found himself having to step up a bit in their Reaps. In the process he learned just how much protection he had been receiving for the last few months. It was a painful revelation. After he'd suffered a nasty bite due to carelessness, Agent Humphries had gently suggested improvements to his left-side defense techniques.

There had been some malicious, snickering scandal-mongering over in Admin. _Did you hear? Alan Humphries - yes, the little quiet one - broke the most serious taboo -_ _ **He removed a glove while in the Human Realm.**_ _Can you imagine? -Well, I never! - I always say you have to watch the quiet ones. - Ooo, isn't he the one who had the Thorns? - Well it just goes to show, doesn't it? - Actually touched a Reap with his naked hand! Do you know what that does? - Well,_ _ **I**_ _heard that they might demote him to a job in Maintenance, - Or even banish him to Hell!..._

Wayland had gone over there to inform the gossiping desk jockeys that his mentor's action had been approved by the Higher Ups as part of an agreement with the Divine Realm. Would they like to come along to verify that with Mr. William T-for-Tear-Your-Head-Off Spears? Gratifying silence had followed.

Sutcliff and Knox were up front on his right. He'd been ordered to let Sutcliff and Slingby lead, which was actually welcome. If the dam or sire was in residence, Wayland knew he was outclassed. He orders were to concentrate on the smaller imps and keep out from underfoot. With luck he'd learn a couple of moves from his Seniors.

Eric had noticed. He murmured to Alan, "What did ye do to Wayland? He's settled a bit."

"Combination of Grell 101 and bitter experience. Grell's agreed to follow him into the field and jump him every so often. Keeps him humble and wary. Also he got stupid last week and I just let it play out. He has a recalibrated attitude and a scar to show the girls."

"You're an evil little man, you are. Good for you. I do believe he might make it to his five-year mark."

"Look, the Enforcers are moving. There's the Possessed - ouch! Down hard - Here we go! There's the dam! Wayland, watch our backs!"

Sutcliffe, a screaming red whirlwind, rushed the dam, who dodged back screeching into Slingby's swinging scythe. She was down; Knox finished her. She dissolved into a stinking mist.

The imps exploded from the nest in all directions. Sutcliffe continued on to block their enormous sire. Humphries' scythe was suddenly between the sire's ankles; as he fell to his knees, Humphries reversed and stabbed upwards. The sire roared as Vanderveldt and Gupta came in from the left and right. He clawed at Humphries' scythe, stuck below his ribs. Humphries banished it to keep it out of enemy hands, and dove aside to let Grell take his place. Hit from the front and both sides, the sire disintegrated.

The imps were adolescent and quite dangerous. Eric took out two who had gotten in each other's way, spun, kicked another into Knox's lawnmower. Fairbairn engaged a fourth, knocking it sideways to be finished by Humphries, re-armed and ready.

One venomous nasty bugger ran up behind Jacobs, who was engaged with another; Wayland picked him off neatly, as he had been taught. Jacobs killed his opponent, turned, nodded to Wayland. Sutcliffe was chasing one - got it - and the last one fell to Gupta.

Slingby and Vanderveldt checked out the nest for any surprises. Humphries ported over to the Enforcers for a quick consultation, then returned.

"Thanks, Wayland. Well done. That's it, and our feathered friends have identified their captured Fallen as the one reported in the last Request for Assistance. Spears can cross that one off his list."

Slingby strode up grinning, outlined in flame as the nest burned behind him. "Van's staying to keep the fire controlled. Nobody's hurt worth mentioning. We'll be filling out paperwork and writing reports for hours. Suppose we stop off for a wee dram?"

"Spears will smell it on us," said Alan. "He has too many ways to express disapproval. Let's get it all done and go out after shift change."

 _Only one for me,_ thinks Wayland, _I don't dare have a hangover tomorrow. I want to learn that spin kick. If Agent Slingby agrees to teach me, I'll need to be stone cold sober or I'll wind up in the Infirmary. Grell would never let me, or anyone else, forget it. And those hyenas in Admin would cackle about it forever._


	7. Epilogue

Spears bundled the reports into a folder, added an overview of his own, and dropped them all into a basket for filing. Most satisfactory. An archangel had been sentenced to forty years as a human in the human realm, caring for his human family. The Fallen was dealt with. A demon nest had been eradicated with no harm to his subordinates. Favors had been exchanged. The Divine Realm was uncomfortably in debt to the Reapers. This would be useful the next time Grell had to be extricated from an entanglement with some angel who'd gotten stewed, screwed and tattooed.

The Higher Ups had been uncommonly gracious to Spears, commending the actions of his people and his own handling of the situation. This goodwill would need careful cultivation. A certain amount must be kept against future emergencies. Some could be used to arrange staffing and budget increases in lieu of unwanted promotion.

He expected to have to negotiate to keep Humphries in place. A personnel-poaching Higher Up had suggested transferring him into the offices which interfaced with the Divine. Humphries was far too good to lose, as was his stabilizing partnership with Slingby. Spears had plans for that team in a decade or so.

If ever Forgiveness had been extended, it had been extended to them; it would not do to part them. The Highest would be displeased.

* * *

Fresh from his shower, Eric buttoned a clean shirt. In the kitchen, Alan was humming a lovely old tune as he laid out breakfast. Eric reached for his vest. It always earned him a special smile. Alan found the vest fascinating. Somehow he always seemed to want to discover all that lay beneath it. He insisted on being the one to unbutton it every night. When he reached up to slip it off Eric's shoulders they automatically fell into an embrace.

As much as Eric enjoyed breaking uniform to irritate Spears, he wore the vest for Alan.

Maybe he'd try wearing one red sock and see how long it took Spears to notice.

* * *

Alan poured the coffee. He looked up at Eric and wondered. So tall, so beautiful, a bit impulsive - intelligent, though; maybe second or third generation? But merely a Reaper now. Besides, the beauty might be in Alan's eyes only; he was hardly objective where Eric was concerned.

Perhaps, he thought, he should schedule a deliberate rule-breaking every six months or so, just to make sure they could stay together. He could imagine it; "Will, it's time for my semi-annual disobedience. I'll be five minutes late tomorrow, don't forget to ding me for it. Or would Monday be more convenient?" Eric would fall out of his chair laughing. Maybe he would improve with practice.

But how foolish of him, to think that Forgiveness would ever be extended to one with his record. There were respected Reapers who had served faultlessly for centuries and remained unforgiven. Surely he and Eric must Reap forever to expiate their sins. _We're safe._

Alan passed the sugar, started a grocery list, and continued to build a Heaven in the midst of purgatory.


End file.
